


Handle With Care

by MaxWrite



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan starts spending more time with Benji outside of work and Benji thinks he knows why; everyone gets lonely sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phenixy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenixy/gifts).



> For [phenixy-dunnhart](http://phenixy-dunnhart.tumblr.com) for [Peggster Secret Santa 2015](http://why-am-i-pluto.tumblr.com/post/132535388771/two-years-ago-i-ran-one-of-these-and-as-far-as-i). Sorry I couldn't post this closer to Christmas. I hope you enjoy it, my dear. ♥

Ethan's apartment was much like what Benji had expected; modern and expensive looking, with the sleek, clean lines that an abundance of glass and stainless steel will provide. Lots of black, gray and silver, cherry hardwood floors, open concept. It felt very masculine and uncomplicated. Like Ethan.

But here and there, there'd be a touch of something warm and personal; photos on the walls of smiling people, some of whom looked much like Ethan; a cozy multicolored quilt thrown across the backrest of the slate-gray sofa; a pretty turquoise vase standing in the center of the glass-and-chrome coffee table.

Benji had been standing in the living room for nearly three minutes now. Ethan had told him to sit, but Benji's legs wouldn't allow it. He was too engrossed in surveying his surroundings. As he took everything in, he felt more and more a sense of something he couldn't name and yet felt intimately familiar with. It made him uneasy. The cluster of black-framed photos on the wall behind the sofa looked incomplete. There was no real pattern to their arrangement but it was painfully clear that some photos had been removed, leaving three glaring empty spots in the cluster. The vase on the coffee table stood empty and probably had for a long time. There weren't even any dried, crispy flower remnants in the bottom. The vase was being kept pristine, dusted regularly. It wasn't there because Ethan liked it. It was there because someone else had.

It occurred to Benji to wonder, and not for the first time that evening, why he was there. He and Ethan had become close since he'd joined Ethan in the field, considered each other friends, but they'd never really hung out, just the two of them. Not before three weeks ago. Work had always brought them together plenty, but these days that didn't seem to be enough for Ethan. Which Benji was hardly upset about.

This particular evening had started with a call from Ethan two days earlier, asking Benji if he wanted to do something that weekend. What the "something" would be had been unspecified and had remained so until today. Ultimately they'd decided on lunch at a cafe and then a movie. After that, they'd spent some time in a bar near the theater, chatting over drinks. When Ethan had checked his watch and said something vague about dinner, Benji had checked his own watch and had gotten a bit of a shock; it had been after eight p.m. at that point. He'd looked out a window to see that the sky outside had darkened. It really hadn't felt as though nearly eight hours had passed since he and Ethan had met up.

"Do you need to get going?" Ethan had asked.

"No!" Benji had replied too eagerly. "I mean, no, er … I'm just surprised so much time has passed."

Ethan had smiled. "It was a good day, huh?"

"Yeah, it was nice. Strange, but nice."

"Strange how?"

"Oh, you know. When you and I hang out, it's normally off the side of a building or something."

"We?"

"Well … someone's gotta man the computer, right?"

Ethan had chuckled quietly to himself, lowering his eyes to the half empty beer mug in front of him and idly fingering its rim. And Benji had stared; at Ethan's smile lines, the mole on his cheek, the way his bangs feathered against his lowered lids, the way his lips came together as his smile softened.

It had been a really nice day. And the time before that had been nice, and the time before that too. Benji swallowed down the lump forming in his throat as he glanced again at the incomplete group of pictures on the wall behind the sofa. If it had been only one missing picture, Benji could've reasoned that maybe it had fallen down and broken and was out being re-framed. But it was three pictures that were missing. They'd been removed on purpose. Maybe Ethan did simply want to be more social of late. But Benji suspected the reason was something far more melancholy than he'd hoped.

Melancholy. That was it. The feeling that had just skirted the edges of his mind a few minutes before. That was what he felt as he looked around Ethan's apartment. He was here to support his friend who maybe needed a little extra TLC these days. Nothing more.

It just felt strange sometimes; realizing that Ethan was indeed mortal and got sad just like everybody else.

He heard footsteps above, walking from one end of the upstairs hallway to the other, getting closer. Ethan was returning. Benji considered throwing himself down onto the sofa but decided there wasn't time to get settled and look natural. Panicked, he turned toward the glass-fronted cabinet full of old jazz and blues records and attempted to look engrossed.

"Hey," said Ethan as he came trotting down the stairs into the living room. "Thought I told you, you could sit and relax."

"Oh! Right, well … I was just … looking around. Never been here before. Just taking it all in. Hey, what ya got there?"

Rather proudly, Ethan held out a thin, rectangular, black velvet case, about the length of his hand. "Thought you might get a kick out of this. Sorry it took me so long. I had to go digging a bit to find it."

Benji took the case from him and opened it up. The lid was hinged and it creaked a little as Benji raised it. Lying inside was an unimpressive-looking black ballpoint pen. Benji grinned as he plucked it from its velvet bed.

"Used that on one of my very first missions," Ethan told him.

Benji had recognized it instantly. It was the sort of gadget that deceptively looked like some harmless, everyday item but could actually be quite deadly to, or at least inconvenient for, its victim. This particular pen was meant to be filled with any liquid that could, for example, be squirted into a potential target's beverage with a quick hand when said target wasn't looking. "Does it still work?" He asked, tucking the case beneath his arm so he could handle the pen with both hands.

"I think so. I, uh, wouldn't test it out on anything you intend to drink. The last thing that pen had inside it was ipecac, so …"

"Whoa," Benji quietly exclaimed as he pulled the pen open. Holding one end in each hand, he peered at its insides. "Will you look at this antiquated mechanism? Not a computer chip or circuit board in sight. Old school. Why do you have this? Do they know you have this?"

"God, no. I got sentimental one day and smuggled it out of the building."

Benji raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You? A thief?"

Ethan gave him a mysterious smirk. "I'm not the boy scout you think I am. Besides, it was just gonna rot in the archives … I want you to have it."

"What? No, you should keep it. It means something to you."

"No, I'm serious. I know you're into old spy tech. And I thought it might make you smile."

Benji did smile as he reassembled the pen and placed it back in its case. "Thank you," he said. He looked up again and found Ethan watching him. Having been caught, Ethan cleared his throat and headed for the kitchen. "No problem. You want a beer or something?"

Ethan had been looking at him like that a lot lately, whenever he thought Benji couldn't see. It was a checking-up-on-him sort of look. Benji thought he knew what it was about.

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Benji said. "Hey, you know, I've really had a nice time with you today."

Ethan stopped on his way to the fridge and turned back with a soft smile. "Me too. I'm glad to hear that. Don't take this the wrong way, but I worry about you sometimes."

"Well, you don't have to. Worry, I mean. I'm fine. This is great. You and me hangin' out. This is really nice. We can do this anytime you want, you know. Don't hesitate to call me. I'll be right over. Good ol' reliable Benji."

Ethan nodded at that, put his hands in his pockets and glanced down at the floor. He seemed troubled. When he looked up again, he gestured to the sofa and headed back over to sit with Benji. This was probably it, Benji thought. Ethan was finally going to come clean about why he'd been spending so much time with Benji the past few weeks. He didn't have anything to be ashamed of, and Benji would be quick to tell him that. Their job was stressful and downright deadly, not just to them, but potentially the people in their lives as well. Benji glanced back at the incomplete photo arrangement on the wall behind him as he sat on the sofa.

"Can I ask you something?" Ethan asked, sitting back and turning his body toward Benji. "A personal question."

"Course. Shoot."

"Do you find it gets hard to be alone sometimes?"

There it is, Benji thought. Ethan seemed to be getting right to the point. "Sure, I do. Everyone gets lonely sometimes, Ethan."

"Yeah. It's just the things we go through – agents like us – there're only a handful of people who get it. It can be easy to just shut down, not talk about it."

"True. That happen to you a lot? You've been at this for so long."

"Sometimes. But then I've got guys like Luther breathing down my neck. He makes sure I'm okay."

Benji smiled at that. Luther was a big softie for the most part, but when he put his foot down, the world took notice. No one could tell Ethan Hunt what to do, except maybe Luther Stickell.

 _And probably Julia,_ Benji thought, couldn't stop himself from thinking. But she was gone.

"What about you?" Ethan asked. "Who do you have looking out for you, Benji?"

Benji hesitated, thinking the question a bit odd. "There's Will and Jane. And I have friends outside of work, of course. I know how it looks: lonely nerd, microwave dinners alone every night in his empty apartment. Nope, mm-mm, that's not … well, it's not _always_ the case …"

"Me," Ethan said, reaching over and laying a hand on Benji's shoulder. "You've got me, okay? I only asked because, well, you can keep to yourself a lot sometimes. Makes me wonder how you're doing."

Benji canted his head at Ethan, confused. "Well … thanks, Ethan, but … what are we talking about?"

Ethan's hand dropped from Benji's shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"I thought … wait, when you said you were worried about me, you actually meant you were worried about me?"

"What'd you think I meant?"

"I thought you were worried I wasn't having fun on our little play dates. So, this whole thing hasn't been about you then?"

Ethan frowned. "About me? Why would it be about me?"

"About you feeling … you know, a little more … or a little less … since the last mission …"

"Hang on." Ethan sat up straighter, still frowning. "I've been what since the last mission?"

Benji hesitated again. He'd completely misread the situation. But why on earth was Ethan worried about him? He could feel his words stuttering out of his mouth before he'd even said them. "Well, you know, you've … like you said, it's never easy, what we do, and … you've lost people before …"

Ethan's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he said, "We didn't lose anyone this last time."

"No, I know, but we nearly did. I mean, obviously … bomb …"

"And you think I'm …?"

"If that mission had gone wrong, if I'd … not made it out … who would you be angry at right now?"

"Lane," Ethan replied in no uncertain terms.

"And? Who else?" Benji challenged, somehow feeling defensive.

Now Ethan hesitated. He looked away and quietly replied, "Myself."

"Exactly. It's happened before, hasn't it? I mean, how much of that can a guy take?"

Ethan sat back again, folded his arms. "So, you think I've been clingy because I almost lost you?" he asked.

There was a twinkle in his eye now and it bugged Benji. He fidgeted in his seat. "Well, I'd like to think that my untimely demise might stir some semblance of an emotion in you."

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. "It would," he said, looking at Benji with clear affection. "It absolutely would. You're right; our last mission did affect me a little … or a lot. But I'm all right. I've got outlets, people looking out for me. This wasn't about me. Although thank you for your concern."

"So, you've been spending more time with me because" –

"I wasn't the one with a bomb strapped to his chest. At least not this time. You're a good agent. A fantastic agent. You've got lots of experience now, but in the grand scheme of things you're still a little green. On one of your very first missions, you had to kill a guy. That's some heavy shit. And then this time with Lane … I didn't hear from you afterward. Luther hadn't, Jane hadn't. Will said he'd seen you around headquarters but you two hadn't really touched base. I know you had your mandatory sessions with IMF's counselors, but that's so impersonal, and knowing you, you probably bluffed your way through them. A guy needs his friends. I was worried, so I asked you out."

Benji looked at him in surprise at the phrasing of that last bit. Ethan seemed to realize too that saying it that way was a little odd.

"I mean I asked if you wanted to hang out with me," he corrected himself, shifting in his seat. "My point is … are you okay? We've talked a bit about work stress, but you always brush it off like it's nothing, like I don't know what you must really be going through."

Benji had looked away from him by now, sat staring in slack-jawed silence. He should be happy, he told himself. Ethan was only looking out for him, cared this much about him. But somehow Benji only felt shame. He felt it creeping up his neck and onto his face, leaving a pathetic pink blush in its wake.

"I … I should go," he finally said. He stood and headed for the door.

"Benji, come on, don't be like that," Ethan pleaded.

"How am I supposed to be?" Benji demanded, raising his voice. He stopped and spun around to face Ethan again. Ethan had stood and had been following Benji, but now he stopped, several feet away, watching Benji with concern. "What's it gonna take? How long do I have to be in the field before everyone stops treating me like a child?"

"I knew you'd be upset."

"Damn right I'm upset! How would you feel if you realized your friends thought you couldn't hack it, that you needed someone's hand to hold all the bloody time?"

"Benji, that's not …" Ethan sighed. He began stepping cautiously toward Benji, looking like he thought Benji might bolt – or maybe hit him – if he made any sudden moves. He held up his hands as though Benji had a gun trained on him. "Look, I'm gonna worry. That's just the way it is. It's not about your relative inexperience."

"Oh, bollocks!" Benji snapped, causing Ethan to stop moving again. "You just said it, you just said … hey, didn't I already yell at you for this? Isn't this the same thing you tried to pull on me in Vienna?"

"I would've said the same to anyone else – Jane, Will, Luther. Any of them. You know that."

"It's not the same with them," Benji insisted, his voice quieter now but only out of exhaustion. His shoulders slumped. He felt drained already and they'd only been arguing for a couple of minutes. He was tired. He felt like he'd been here before – not once or twice, but multiple times – right here in this very same argument with Ethan. Or if not having it out with him verbally, simply feeling the extra bit of concern radiating off him like heat from a furnace.

"I feel like I'm never gonna prove myself to you," Benji said. "We're just gonna keep coming back to this over and over."

"That's not true," Ethan insisted, taking the last few steps toward Benji and standing before him. "Yeah, okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I do coddle you a little. I can't help it. I have a history with you that I don't have with anyone else. I didn't know the others before or during their training. To me you're still …"

"Benji the schlubby lab rat."

"No. Well, yeah, but not like that, not how you said it. I'm gonna worry, Benji. No matter how much experience you gain. I trust you with my life now because I've seen what you can do, but I will still always be a little extra worried for you. It's not because I think you're incompetent. It's because …"

And just like that, Benji believed him. Something about the way Ethan was looking at him now; not with concern, not checking up on him. There was just … something. Whatever the end of Ethan's sentence was, Benji now believed he was telling the truth.

Ethan smiled and said, "You can't tell me you don't worry extra hard over me."

"Well, maybe. But that's entirely you're fault. You're mad, you know. Need I remind you which one of us actually did die last mission?"

"No. You're right, I do give you cause to worry, but my point is we have a special relationship, you and me. You were looking out for me this entire time that I was looking out for you. You're here right now because you thought I needed company."

"Yeah, well … I just thought with everything you've been through, the people you've lost … Julia …" He trailed off, swallowed hard, looked away. He couldn't look Ethan in the eye and talk about his wife. He couldn't look into those eyes and watch while Ethan tried to pretend she wasn't dead. He shouldn't even have brought her up in the first place. Why make Ethan think about it now?

"Come upstairs," Ethan said suddenly, turning and heading for the staircase. "I wanna show you something."

Benji had thought about a moment like this on multiple occasions, usually in bed in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep, or while he was in the shower, or even at work, at his desk trying to look busy. He'd fantasized about this very thing, about Ethan inviting him over and taking him upstairs. Somehow he didn't think the reality was going to go quite the same way his fantasy always did.

He followed Ethan up to the bedroom, which was all wood and gray and navy blue. The bed was perfectly made. The small number of items on the dresser was arranged neatly. There were a few bottles of cologne and one of sunscreen, a chunky silver wrist watch, an antique-looking wooden jewelry box which, like the vase downstairs, didn't look like it belonged to him. And there was a small picture in a frame.

While Ethan rummaged around in a drawer in one of his nightstands, Benji stared at the photo on the dresser. Even from a distance he could tell who it was. The beautiful, smiling, dark-haired woman's face wasn't one he'd ever forget.

"Sit," Ethan said as he straightened up and came back around to Benji's side of the bed. He was holding a folded piece of paper. Benji took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling odd doing so. This wasn't the same place where Ethan had lived with Julia, but Benji was willing to bet the bed was the same one they'd shared. He glanced at Julia's photo once more as Ethan sat next to him. Considering all the naughty thoughts he'd had about her husband over the years, he knew he didn't belong here.

Ethan unfolded the piece of paper to reveal simple off-white stationery with a bronze-colored border. Within the border was a letter, written in neat, tiny, slightly slanted print. Ethan handed the letter to Benji.

"What's this?" Benji asked, taking it from him.

"Read it."

The letter looked awfully personal. But if Ethan wanted Benji to see something in it … Benji began reading quietly to himself.

> _"Dear Ethan,_
> 
> _You were right. I got the promotion at work. I was convinced it wasn't going to happen, but you knew. How do you always know? How do you always have such faith in me, even when I don't?_
> 
> _The puppies are getting so big. I sent a few pictures for you –"_

Benji skimmed over much of the letter, wondering what he was meant to be getting from it. Then he reached the last big paragraph:

> _"I've stopped by our favorite restaurant several times in the last month. I told you they have a location here, didn't I? It's not far from my house. I ordered your usual – the #3 with a side of coleslaw. Remember when you told me why you had to order it every single time, why'd you'd forced yourself to develop a taste for sauerkraut? Because the #3 was always your dad's favorite. I thought that was very touching, but I still never really got it. I always wondered what was wrong with just looking at old pictures, listening to his favorite music? Why force yourself to eat something you didn't like? But I think I get it now. For you it's your dad; for me it's you. I can't not order it when I go there. I try to remind myself that it's not the same thing; you haven't died, you're perfectly fine, but I feel strange even thinking about ordering anything else from that restaurant. I sit and eat and write in my journal and I think about you. And I miss you. But I feel closer to you when I'm there._
> 
> _That's all for now. How are you doing? Tell me you're getting out more, and not just to save the world._
> 
> _I look forward to hearing from you again. Take care, Ethan._
> 
> _Love,  
>  Eliza"_

Benji had never heard Ethan talk about anyone named Eliza. But then Benji suspected there were a million things Ethan never discussed with anyone.

"It's lovely," he said. "But who's Eliza? Should I recognize that name?"

"It's from Julia."

"Oh."

"Check the date."

Benji looked toward the upper right-hand corner of the page where Julia had printed the date in her pretty little writing. He blinked at it, squinted at it.

"You're reading it right," Ethan assured him. "She sent that less than a month ago. She's very much alive and well."

Benji's stomach dropped. Ethan knew. He knew that Will had told Benji and Jane what had happened to Julia.

Then Benji heard it, _really_ heard it, several seconds after Ethan had said it, like he was catching the last few distant iterations of an echo. Julia was alive.

"I don't understand," Benji admitted.

"We faked her death. It was the only way to keep her safe. Will knows the truth too. I told him shortly after he recounted his version of the story to you and Jane. Don't hold it against him that he didn't tell you guys what I told him. It wasn't his place to do that. And besides, the fewer people that know, the better."

"You … she's _alive_?"

Ethan nodded.

"But she's …" Benji skimmed through the middle of the letter again, having remembered seeing something that had seemed innocuous at first but now stood out like a spotlight in the dark. "She's seeing someone."

"Yeah. He sounds great. He even wants kids, something I never felt comfortable with, given my profession. He's good to her, makes her happy. They're engaged."

"Jesus Christ," Benji said, rereading much of the letter with new understanding. "She's alive. She's actually, really, literally alive. You … you didn't want to let her go. You _had_ to. You still love her."

"Yes."

"You'd probably be with her again if it wouldn't endanger her, and you're telling me you're perfectly okay with this? Reading about her happy life with some other man?"

"I understand your reaction. You've had all of ten seconds to process this. I've had well over a year. Benji, she wasn't gonna be alone forever. I wouldn't want her to be. She thought she would, said as much. There was a time when she couldn't see a future with someone else. But that changed with time. And I've made my peace with it. Reading the sadness in her words in the first letters she sent … that nearly killed me. But this? Her happiness? This could never hurt. And she feels the same way about me."

Benji stared at him in disbelief, but Ethan remained serene. This was possibly the most content Benji had ever seen him. The soft warmth in his eyes seeped out into the minute lines at their outer corners. And there it was again; that _something_. It made Benji fidget.

"Why are you telling me this?" Benji asked. "If it could endanger her, why tell me?"

"This isn't endangering her. It's just you. This is part of my earlier point: I trust you implicitly. You never have to worry about me doubting you, ever. You know, she liked you a lot." Ethan smiled wistfully. "She always used to ask about you: 'How's Benji? Did you talk to Benji today? What's Benji up to?' You made quite the impression on her."

"Oh," Benji said with mild surprise. "Likewise. She was lovely. I mean she _is_ lovely."

"She always talked about setting you up with someone she knew from work. She was very concerned about that, about you being alone. Once she got an idea in her head … but she never got around to it." Ethan chuckled. "She always used to joke about how I'd be perfect for you."

"What?" Benji laughed nervously, avoiding Ethan's eyes. "That's crazy. Why would she … is it hot in here?" He twisted around to look across to the side of the room they had their backs to. "Is there a window we could" –

"She could tell that you looked up to me. And she could tell how fond of you I was. She said she thought she'd found your perfect match. Some guy she always said reminded her of me. I might've been a bit jealous when she first started talking about him, but then she suggested him for you. I stopped plotting the guy's death at that point. Yeah … she liked you a lot."

"I dunno what to say. I had no idea she thought of me that much."

"I probably talked about you a lot after she found out what I really did for a living. Benji, listen, I know you're a fantastic agent. You've saved me more times than I can count. But I will always worry for you a little more than I do for anyone else. I can't help it. The psychological toll that this job takes; I never wanted that for you. I didn't know how protective of you I would feel until I saw it was you driving the extraction van in Moscow. I had no idea. And then when Lane …" Ethan stopped, clenched his jaw; Benji could see the muscles inside his cheeks twitching. Ethan looked at him and continued, "That had to have taken a toll on you. Because it took one hell of a toll on me and it wasn't even me with the bomb strapped to my chest."

"I'm fine," Benji heard himself say. He knew he should be more honest, but it wasn't his nature. You kept things to yourself and you moved on. This was the job he'd signed up for. He couldn't complain about it now.

Ethan reached over, took the letter from Benji's hands and put it aside on the nightstand. Then, to Benji's surprise, he took one of Benji's hands and then went on speaking as though all the air hadn't just been sucked out of the room. "Maybe you were right when you said you thought I was the one who needed _you_ the past few weeks. I'm here for you. That's still a hundred percent true, but maybe … maybe I need you too." When Benji didn't respond, simply went on staring down at Ethan's hand clutching his own in disbelief, Ethan asked, "Am I being too forward?"

"I-I dunno. What exactly are you saying?" Benji asked, meeting Ethan's eyes.

"I'm saying … d'you wanna maybe see where this goes?"

"This? Y-you're asking me out?"

"I guess I am. I didn't plan this. I had no intention of doing any of this when I asked you over."

"But … you … I mean, you're wonderful, of course, I … I've noticed you a lot over the years. But we work together. And are you even ready to move on with someone else? She's not dead. You still love her."

"You can love more than one person. And I don't know if I'm ready. But I know that I like you. I know that I care for you more than …"

"What?"

"More than just about anyone else."

Benji's heart was pounding. No, this was all wrong. He was sitting on Ethan and Julia's bed while Ethan basically confessed his love for him, and Julia – sweet, lovely, totally-not-dead Julia – was watching them from her picture across the room. The only picture of her that Ethan could bear to have out in the open. This was weird. This was not at all how any of Benji's fantasies had gone. He wanted to say yes, of course. He wanted to say that he would absolutely, one hundred percent love to start dating Ethan, but he could practically feel Julia's smiling eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

"I … I dunno," he stammered.

"I intend to take things really slow, if that makes any difference," Ethan assured him.

"Well, confessing your affections while sitting on a bed was probably a terrible start."

Ethan smiled. "Sorry about that."

"She's not dead, Ethan."

"No, she's alive. More alive than I've been in some time, and she wants the same for me. If you're worried that she'd be upset, don't be. We should want our loved ones to be happy, even if that happiness comes from something other than ourselves. That's how things should work. Don't you think?"

He had a point there. And his assurance that he wanted to go slowly calmed Benji's nerves a bit. He was finally able to process the fact that Ethan was holding his hand. Ethan Hunt was holding his hand and asking him out.

Ethan suddenly turned shy and fidgety. It was so unlike him that it caught Benji completely off guard and disarmed him. He'd seen the way Ethan could be with women he found attractive, how cool and calm and flirty and basically everything Benji had never managed to achieve. But now, holding Benji's hand, he seemed nervous. He was just tender, Benji thought. Still healing, still hurting from a lot of things. Benji squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Do you, uh, wanna watch a movie or something?" Ethan asked. "I know it's getting late, but … we could order in."

Having made up his mind, Benji managed to refrain from blurting out a too enthusiastic "yes" and instead merely nodded and replied, "That'd be nice."

Ethan gazed at him for a moment longer and there was that something in his eyes again. Benji recognized it now. He felt stupid for not knowing what it was before, but why on earth would he have thought that Ethan might fancy him? Sure, he'd entertained the idea, but not seriously.

And then Ethan did something that made Benji's insides do somersaults; he looked down at Benji's lips and licked his own.

But Ethan hesitated. Just a brief moment, a mere second, maybe a second and a half. And in that moment Benji realized how badly he wanted Ethan to do what Ethan was clearly thinking of doing.

"You can kiss me," Benji blurted out before he could stop himself. He heard himself saying the words as if he wasn't in control of his own mouth. "If you want. I-I'd like that. If it's not going too fast for you. I'm not trying to rush you or anything. I'm just babbling. Like I do. Y-you do what you need to do. I'll just … wait. Or I could leave. I could go back downstairs if you'd –"

Benji was pretty sure that Ethan finally kissed him just to shut him up. Whether this was "too fast" for Ethan or not, Ethan was probably pleased to have one more method of quieting Benji's nervous chatter. It was the softest kiss; nothing desperate or lusty or probing, not yet. Nothing in Benji's fantasies had been this innocent, and nothing in his fantasies had ever made him ache quite this much.

Then Ethan raised his free hand and cupped Benji's cheek as he made the kiss just slightly more firm. Barely parting his lips, he caught Benji's upper lip between both of his own, held it, released it, caught it again.

Benji couldn't help himself; his tongue slipped out just the tiniest bit to swipe along Ethan's lips. He instantly opened his eyes to check on Ethan, ready to pull back and apologize, but Ethan didn't pull away. Instead he emitted the softest moan. An actual moan, and Benji felt that little noise from his heart all the way down to his toes.

It was too much; the gentle kiss, the clean smell of Ethan's aftershave, the heat from his body, the touch of his hands on Benji's skin. It was all stirring emotions in him that hurt. What he wanted was to be enveloped in Ethan's arms and stay there for a long time and squeeze his eyes shut and force the nightmares out of his head, but he couldn't do that, because not only did he need to be strong for his friend, but this closeness – something Benji hadn't experienced in a long time – was having another, very unsettling effect on him.

He pulled away, broke the kiss, though he allowed Ethan's hands to stay where they were. He looked down and breathed deeply, trying to get his breath back. His heart was pounding, his skin felt cold and clammy.

"Benji? Benji, look at me. Are you okay?"

Ethan sounded oddly distant, even though he was sitting right there, still holding Benji's hand. And he sounded panicked. Benji looked at Ethan's face, blinked a few times to get his eyes to focus. Ethan looked pale and worried.

"I'm fine," Benji assured him through his slightly heavy breathing. His voice came out quieter than he'd intended.

"I'm sorry. I'm rushing you. I didn't mean to. I didn't intend to kiss you like that, I just … had to."

Benji registered the compliment but was still too shaken to focus on it just yet. Instead he shook his head, troubled by the other things Ethan had just said. "No, it wasn't you," he said, his voice sounding a little more normal now. "It wasn't anything. I'm all right. I just …" He paused, not wanting to say exactly what had just happened. It had happened before, actually, but never in response to Ethan. Something about being held, being touched, the warmth so close to his face had brought back memories of other things, far less pleasant things; the roughness of strong hands strapping him down, the darkness and heat inside the bag over his head, that other man's face inches from his own, sneering at him in that eerily subtle way, quietly threatening …

But Ethan was none of those things. Ethan was safe and good and kind and lovely and wonderful.

 _And he loves you,_ Benji thought. The words came out of nowhere. Benji had never, ever been certain of anything romantic in his life. He had no instincts for such things. He was always drawn to the unattainable.

But right here, right now, he knew that Ethan loved him. The concern etching Ethan's handsome face with lines and saddening his eyes told Benji that. The way Ethan continued to clutch his hand told him that. The way he kept urging Benji to breathe, telling him that he was safe and okay told him that. And Benji knew that he loved Ethan back.

"I know I'm safe. I'm fine," Benji insisted out of habit.

Ethan's expression saddened even more. It broke Benji's heart, because he knew that by trying not to worry Ethan, he was doing the exact opposite.

He lowered his eyes again, unable to keep on looking at the concern on Ethan's face. He'd managed to get his breath back now, but he was still shaken. Ethan raised the hand that had been on Benji's cheek and now placed it on the back of Benji's neck. He gently massaged there and waited. Benji could practically feel Ethan's patience. What was he supposed to tell him? That kissing him had triggered a panic attack?

"It wasn't you," Benji repeated.

"Are you sure?"

"If it had been you, I wouldn't still be sat here with your hands on me. I rather like having your hands on me. I just had a moment. I can't explain it."

"Don't try. Or do try, if you need to. Whatever you need, Benji."

"I'm supposed to be here for _you_."

"We're here for each other."

Ethan's sweetness and patience made Benji ache again. He shut his eyes for a moment, took a few breaths and finally said, "I'm not okay." He just let the words out, quickly before they had a chance to back down in fear. He hadn't been okay for a while. This was the first time he'd said it out loud.

"Lane?" Ethan asked.

Benji merely nodded. He heard Ethan sigh and sneaked a peek at him; Ethan had looked away and Benji could see a vein pulsing in his temple. He was still angry. Lane had messed with his head as much as he had Benji's.

Ethan met his eyes again, his own gaze a little harder now. Yes, he was still very angry about Lane. Even more so because Lane had gone after someone he loved.

"D'you wanna talk?" Ethan asked, his voice soft and encouraging despite the hardness in his eyes.

Benji shook his head. "Not yet."

"What can I do?"

Benji glanced around the room, eyes darting from the bed to Julia's picture to Ethan's various possessions and back to the bed where his eyes lingered. Ethan seemed to pick up on something.

He let Benji go, shifted away and shimmied back onto the bed until his whole body was on it. He laid down on his side, propped up on his elbow, and watched Benji expectantly.

Benji instantly tensed, thinking he'd been misunderstood. "Ethan" –

"It's okay. I know you're not asking for sex."

Benji relaxed, but only a little. "What are you doing?"

"It's okay to need sometimes, Benji," Ethan assured him. "It's okay to admit that you do. It's okay to take what you need if it's being offered freely. Besides, how do you know I don't need this too?"

Benji swallowed hard, uneasy knowing that Ethan had read him so easily. But maybe Ethan did need this too, he reasoned. Slowly, hesitantly, Benji began making his way back to Ethan who put his head down on the pillow and wrapped his arms around Benji when Benji settled against him. Instantly the warmth and firmness and scent of Ethan began to calm Benji down. He held his breath, waited. Nothing happened. He was okay. For now.

"See?" he whispered. "It wasn't you."

"I'm glad," Ethan replied. A moment later, Benji felt Ethan kiss the top of his head. How surreal. He was in bed with Ethan Hunt, being held and cuddled and kissed and comforted. They loved each other very much and would say as much one day. If all went well, things would eventually progress physically. Benji's stomach filled with butterflies at the thought. None of his fantasies had ended quite like this. But this was so much nicer.

"I thought we weren't going to end up in bed together tonight," Benji said.

"You gotta adapt, be flexible … Benji?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Benji wanted to ask what for, but then Ethan squeezed him and kissed his head again and that felt somehow like an answer. Thank you for being here. Thank you for trusting me. And maybe, just maybe – if what Ethan had said about needing this too was true – thank you for saving me.

END


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